


The Personal Touch

by Rowaine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Revenge, dark and angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things you simply can't pass off to someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Personal Touch

**Title:** The Personal Touch (formerly posted as Working Together)

 **Author:** Rowaine

 **Summary:** Some things you simply can’t pass off to someone else.

 **Rating:** light R for inferred non-con

 **Pairings:** Snarry

 **Warnings:** child abuse, neglect and rape – AU!

 **Disclaimer:** None of the characters mentioned in this story are mine. If they were, their fates would have turned out much differently.

~ * ~

The tiny room was dark, cold and infested with spiders. His frail body shivered under the thin, natty infant blanket, his only source of comfort. Huddled against the back wall, he tried making himself smaller to combat the claustrophobia that urged him to scream for release.

But that would be the start of a whole new series of problems.

Already, the gnawing hunger of an empty belly made his misery multiply. Scabs were slow to form across the belt marks on his back, shoulders and buttocks. Weary from a full day of intense labour, and frustrated by the lack of care shown by his guardians, his mind dived into a cycle of hopelessness.

What had he done to deserve such treatment?

~ * ~

Many miles away, a silent observer watched the miserable little figure with a malicious smile on his face.

~ * ~

Dawn finally arrived, bringing with it a return to the previous day’s torments. He was ordered out of his cupboard, kicked toward the kitchen, and forced to prepare a breakfast he couldn’t eat. Dozens of snide comments flew his way, hitting every trigger by long years of practice. There was no peace through silence now. He began to long for the quiet misery of night where, though locked inside a tiny cupboard, he was at least left to himself.

The horse-faced woman took her odious offspring and left for a day’s shopping, leaving the whale of a man behind to oversee his charge’s chores. Less than half an hour later, however, the small body was dragged up the stairs to a guest room and thrown onto the bed. With the locking of the door, he finally knew true horror – he was to be raped. His subconscious told him ‘again’ as a reminder.

~ * ~

There really was no reason for him to continue watching the brutalities inflicted in his gazing bowl. No reason other than a spiteful desire to witness his target’s decline into a suicidal depression. 

_Ah, there is something to be said about knowing your enemies... and their fears._

~ * ~

Unbelievably, the obese monster had the refractory period of a randy teen. He used the frail little body’s arse and mouth - in that order - and was well on his way to a third round when he heard the car doors shutting, indicating that his wife and son were home. He quickly tucked himself into his trousers and spat on the crying figure lying on the floor.

“Get yourself dressed and outside. You’ll be spending the rest of the day in the garden, and not a word to anyone.” He sneered, watching as thin arms struggled to push off the floor. “Freak!”

As a parting gift, he kicked the bleeding arse he had just enjoyed, causing the body to fall back to the floor.

~ * ~

_Oh yes, he always was so good about adding injury to injury. The insults were foreplay for that sick fuck._

~ * ~

Days dragged into weeks, weeks into months. 

One afternoon, something strange occurred. And everyone knew, the Dursley family hated anything strange happening in their oh-so-normal lives.

A letter flew through the mail drop much too early for their normal postal carrier. Even more odd, it landed at the feet of their unwanted nuisance. The youngest tormentor snatched it away and began tearing it open, encouraged by his parents.

“Dad, it’s from some school. Says Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Oh Daddy, he must’ve talked to someone,” the overweight child’s voice nearly sang with hateful glee. “You should beat him, Daddy. Make him remember his place.”

From the wickedly evil grin on the older man’s face, he was in complete agreement with his son. A quick glance at his wife showed that she, too, was all for some form of punishment.

“You know the routine, boy. Up to the guest room with ya, and no smarting off!”

With a weary sigh, he tiredly made his way upstairs, never learning what was in the single letter he’d ever received.

~ * ~

“What do you think - a few more weeks of this?”

“Oh, I don’t know... Perhaps he should stay with them at least a few weeks every summer. For the next six years or so.” A dark chuckle, then, “That should just about mold him where we want him to be, don’t you think?”

“Hmm, you’re right. He should be quite malleable by then.”

~ * ~

The end of that summer held a glimmer of hope. Finally he was allowed to go away to school, away from the broken dishes and broken bones, the bruisings and beatings. The _other_ things that were too horrible to think about during such a brilliant day.

His mind recalled every minute of the tortures at his guardians’ home... but curiously, he remembered nothing about this shiny new world into which he was thrown. Witches and wizards he could just about wrap his mind around, but many of the charms used so abundantly were wondrous... and scary.

Strangers began to maul him as he tried to run his errands. Hands touched him in places that caused panic. Fingers lifted his chin, moved his hair aside to verify the ragged scar on his face. A few even pulled a strand of hair or ripped at his clothing to have some sort of souvenir.

The giant guiding him was little help, other than being able to tell him which shops would be necessary to fill out his supply list. For some reason, he wasn’t acting as a bodyguard.

Shrugging against answers he didn’t have, he dodged away from the latest group of “fans” and ducked into the wandmaker’s shop.

~ * ~

“Should we let him continue?”

“It would provide much entertainment.”

“I suppose. But maybe there’s a way to dump all the pertinent memories all at one time.”

“Impatient brat. You are never going to learn the satisfaction of revenge if you cannot force yourself to be patient.”

“I can’t help it if I want to see what sort of person he’s turned into!”

“Hmm yes, rather a fitting punishment, I’d say.”

~ * ~

Being gawked at – and pawed to pieces by total strangers – was bad enough. But when he got on board the train to take him into this new world, he was mocked and sneered at for no apparent reason. Idolized by half the magical world, rejected by the other half. He was almost better off with the Dursleys! At least they were consistent in their behaviour toward him.

~ * ~

“I think it’s time, Severus. We can sedate him on the train, bring him up to the office, and pour the remaining memories into his head before he wakes up.”

“Really Potter, one would think you know nothing about subtlety.”

“You just want to give your introductory speech again.”

Lip curling on one side, the Potions Master could not disagree. “You must admit, it is rather impressive.”

“Well of course it is.” Harry pushed his face into the starched collar of his lover. “Everything you say and do is impressive.”

“And most things from your mouth are meaningless drivel.” Snape’s hand rose to caress the messy hair. “You are also too kind-hearted by far. You’d do better leaving the revenge to me from here on out.”

“Mmmhmm,” Harry muttered into his mate’s neck. “We’ve worked on Dumbledore together, and nearly caused an end to a perfectly good marriage. But I know Ron and ‘Mione better than you. Know which buttons to push for best effect. You can have Malfoy and the rest to yourself though, ‘kay?”

It was no chore to bestow affection on his husband, and Severus utilized the time in preparing for the next round of retribution in his darling Harry’s name.

“I shall make sure they find more… compassion.”

“’S not compassion they need, Severus,” Harry’s muffled voice was much sharper. His face pulled back, even with his husband’s. “They played at sympathy and compassion for years, love. Now they need to learn the hard way – and discover what wonders can be found through empathy.”

“As you wish, Harry.”

~ End


End file.
